A Fitting Ending
by Miss Riku
Summary: A take on what happened to Richard, Claire, Kate, Sawyer, Frank, and Miles, after the island :Oneshot:


**Here's my take on what I think happened—although I wished Damon and Carlton had actually TOLD US! GRRRR! Can't wait until the box set comes out—they say there's going to be a whole lot of extra scenes (and a lot of Bennie and Hugo hangin' out! Oh yeeezz!) **

**Anyhow, enjoy! And please, R&R, whether positive or negative, I care not. I love feedback of all kinds :) **

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They never considered themselves lucky.

Of all the people who went through what they did, survived plane crashes, raids by 'other' people, being shot at—as well as being shot- and being assaulted by a shape-shifting individual who held the form of smoke, these would be the lucky ones. Lucky to be alive, to be back, to rejoin society. Funny, though, how it never seemed like they were. Quite the contrary, it was more like the lucky ones were the ones left behind.

Jacob was right in the end, of course—the lives they had originally left behind when they boarded that Oceanic flight from Sydney to LA wasn't worth trying to go back too. Each of them flawed, each of them with pasts stained by choices made, and with futures forever altered from normality.

As to escape prying questions, the pilot found a remote area to land the plane; near enough to civilization, but far enough away to rid themselves of any interested eyes. From there, they all left to their respected places, or simply no place at all. When a local found a long, hollow 737 in a field near his home, the world lit up with the story; where were the passengers? How had the empty plane found it's way to an equally empty field? Did this have anything to do with a similar plane accident? The conspiracy theorists loved it, coming up with all sorts of insane ideas, and for a moment, that's all anyone could talk about.

But, just like many other things, the modern world had no room for stories of mystical islands and time traveling bunnies, soon forgetting about the mysteriously empty Adjira 316 and it's supposed connection to a flight to a company called Oceanic. Meanwhile, it's passengers melted into the world, denying any connection.

Indeed, the lucky ones were the ones left behind, the ones that didn't leave. For the job of rejoining society that faced the six that did, the six that got on that doomed plane and managed to blast it into the wild blue yonder, would be the hardest thing they've ever done.

But they did it admirably.

First there was the loyal, old, crusty pilot. Frank had a hard time adjusting. He returned to his previous home in Oahu, but only long enough to sell it; he couldn't stay there any longer since he would be recognized, and all hell would break loose. Using the money, he bought his own small-but sturdy-plane, settled down in a out-of-the-way spot on a small Hawaiian island, and flew for tourists. No longer did he use his talents to land, then take planes off the beaches of crazy islands. The craft he acquired was weathered, but sturdy, and once when a man asked him, "You sure you can fly this thing?" Frank just uttered, "You have no idea." This sort of attitude continued for a few years until he saved up a nice retirement fund, and quit all jobs, then flew simply for his own enjoyment.

He never married. Had a lot to choose from, but never figured himself the 'hitching' type. So after retirement, he spent his days with his plane, his Sam Adams, and his goldfish (before, it was with his plane, his Sam Adams, his goldfish, and families with fake flower Luaus and sun burned backs). He was known by the locals as being a strange, old man with a grumpy face, but one with a story to tell. On his 75th birthday, Frank went up in his plane to celebrate, to take a long loop around the small island.

He never came back. Fitting for the old flyer.

And Sawyer... good ol' Sawyer disappeared, but not before a long-overdue visit was held and alliances were formed.

He and Miles wandered back into the world together; both of them holding a unsaid alliance to each other's future (one that went unsaid until a day when Sawyer was especially annoyed, and declared, "Why the hell are you still here, anyway!" and Miles replied, "So you want me to leave!"..."Hell, no."). They bunked up in a small apartment in San Diego, living a bachelor's life, no worry about money since Miles had been smart enough to stick some diamonds into his pocket, the former property of two riches-loving lovers. Miles vouched for keeping all of it, but Sawyer wouldn't settle for any less than a six-way-split between the lot of them. No one had a problem, except of course for Miles.

About six months into civilization, Sawyer came forth with a proposition, and Miles found himself at a Oklahoma Preschool, hijacking a small, blond haired, spunky, five year old girl named after a fruit. Since Sawyer wasn't really suppose to exist, the man couldn't legally do what he wanted. So his companion helped him along, granting him 10 minutes with the daughter he had never met.

When the time was up, and Miles had to take her back before she was missed, Sawyer beckoned his daughter,"Come here, Citrus" and gave her a hug. Clementine kissed him on the cheek, and he whispered to her words she would never forget.

"I love you."

Clementine never told her mother about the meeting, but always knew in the back of her mind that she was loved by some guy with shoulder length sandy-blond hair; especially when she received a scholarship to college, the money coming from a 'Anonymous Donor', who left a note with the money saying: "To Citrus."

After the meet-and-greet, Sawyer and Miles disappeared. Together or separately, one could not say. Rumor was it that they moved to Miami and started a small security business, but their identities were never confirmed.

Then there's Claire. The woman who was afraid of being accepted, of being a mother, was welcomed into her own mother's house with open arms. Mrs. Littleton didn't ask questions, said she didn't need to know why, but just that her daughter was back. She thanked Kate profusely, and then brought out Aaron. Although it was a hard, slow, and painful process, with the help of Kate, Claire got her son back. The two of them lived with Mrs. Littleton until Aaron was about 10, when someone found them, someone who Claire had wished to never see again. Tom. He called them in the middle of the night, saying he wanted partial custody of his son (the son he never wanted to begin with, but had apparently changed his mind).

Kate couldn't let this happen—bringing this matter to court would blow their secrecy, and bring up questions that they could not answer. Using the money from the sale of her portion of Miles' diamonds, she convinced him to be content with a quiet visit. When Aaron was brought to his 'father' and told who he was, the young boy replied loudly, "You're not my daddy! My daddy's a rock star!"

Whether he got this idea from his mother or from some corner of his mind where he had a picture of a blond headed man with a guitar, no one ever knew.

Kate fulfilled her promise to Claire, staying along with them and assisting in reconnecting Aaron with his mother. All the while, using the remainder of the diamond money too pay a California captain and crew to find a island, a island located, "Somewhere in the Pacific."

"The Pacific is a pretty big lake, lady."

"Just find it."

Ironic. The one who insisted that they weren't supposed to return ended up being the one who wanted to. The crew searched and searched, and Kate waited and waited. Hoping to find Jack again, although they searched for years, it was in vain. The crew almost gave up multiple times, but Kate—along with the help of her money—convinced them to keep looking. Claire had no idea, as Kate kept her desire a secret. She never married, never wanted too, but split the next feiw years looking for the Island and being with her 'new' family; a blond Australian woman and a boy who called her "Aunt Kate".

But money only goes so far, and in the end, the crew did leave. Kate was not deterred. She scrounged up enough to purchase a yacht for herself, and left in search of the island herself. Claire and 15 year old Aaron thought she was going to visit a friend.

She never came back. Did she at last return to the very place from which she had so long been running from? No one could ever tell.

Richard had multiple identities to choose from, since he had been in the 'real world' previously, and had to be many different people to perform his many different jobs. He had set aside passports and drivers licenses, all under different aliases, but not even that put him at ease. He was nervous, everything that happened left him a different person. It left him lost without his once leader, and his previous purpose for living. He spent the first six months of his new life inside the walls of a Catholic Monastery situated in Europe, an attempt to 'discover himself' in a way.

When he rejoined society, he was a man with a purpose, as well as a new faith. Seemed as though the Monks had rubbed off on him, and he looked towards his future with even more hope and promise.

After moving back to the Canary Islands, he bought that piece of land he had lived on so very long ago. He built a house on it using the money he had been putting aside for years at the behest of Jacob, who had insisted that 'just in case. Never know when you might need it'. The no-longer-immortal split his time between his home and one in New York.

At '60' (that's how old the doctors said his body was, anyway), he was the happiest arthritis patient that the hospitals had ever seen, and the one most willing to tell stories to all who would listen, stories about a place that brought wide eyes to children and condescending nods from grown-ups (as if they knew the truth better than he). At '80', he had started a organization for people who were in depression and considering suicide. He helped people learn that life was worth it, and to savor every moment.

If anyone knew about this, it would be Richard.

He never remarried, but always wore his pendant as a reminder for what he once had. Richard did take under his wing a young boy, however, who led his organization when the elder passed on at around the age of 300, although the doctors said it was 108. He had died in his sleep, smiling, and grasping his pendant so tightly in his right hand that the doctors couldn't get it out without removing his fingers. They left it in. Fitting. The young soul in a old body finally found the rest he'd always wanted, and whether he resides alone or with a past love, no one can say.

Each one blended in as best they could. Tried to be normal. But in the back of their minds, always, was the picture of a small island lost somewhere in the Pacific. A spit of land filled with boar, smoke monsters, and spontaneous thunder storms. An place protected by a lottery winner, who always wanted to help, and a man who had finally learned that second place was a fine place to be.

On an island where the skeleton of a man lay in a grove of bamboo, and from deep within a cave, a light always shone.

And, just as a great man of faith had once said, it _was_ indeed beautiful.

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**Forgive the 'But' and 'And' sentence beginnings. I choose to ignore that grammar rule ;) R&R**


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